(514-05-18) Cyndeyrn and Rozenn Joust
Summary: In one of the earlier bouts, Burcombe meets Dinton.
Date: May 18, 514
Related: Other Jousts
catryn cyndeyrn cynrain lysanor martyn rozenn seren 

Cyndeyrn checked his tourney of 10, he rolled 19.

You check your Tourney at 2, you rolled 12.

You check your Lance at 10, you rolled 14.

Cyndeyrn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 13.
Cyndeyrn rolls 6d6 and gets (4 4 4 2 1 1) for a total of: (16)

You check your Horsemanship at 15, you rolled 19.

Jousting begins bright and early, running long through the day. There are a good deal many Knights in the lists and one such wears the colors of Burcombe. Sir Rozenn's charger likely senses the excitement not just of his rider, but of the people in the crowds. It's not packed out yet; the hour is still relatively early and there are plenty who may have remained up late in the taverns and their tents, partying. There is no overt grace or courtesy from the woman; not one to play heavily to a crowd. There is a salute to the required, yes, but nothing else special.

Learning that her brother would be jousting that morning, Lysanor wakes up extra early to help his squire prepare his equipment, but she most likely gets his clothing in order and makes sure that he has a hearty breakfast before the event. The thrill of the tournament has lifted her mood and she cannot wait to cheer on her family and friends in these glorious competitions. Joining the rest of her family at the tourney grounds, she is dressed proudly in her house colors and stands as close to the field as she possibly can, so that those taller than she do nothing to mar her view! With a nervous excitement in her heart, she toys with the thick braid which rests on her left shoulder as she watches for Cyndeyrn out on the field.

It may seem an appropriate twist that a Dinton faces a Burcombe on this early pairing, giving the Salisbury audience something to watch with interest even if the local rivalries are far beyond the notice of the tourney's hosts and loftier guests. For Cyndeyrn, it seems to matter little enough as far as his approach is concerned, the large young knight ever a stoic figure for such affairs. What does concern him, actually, are the details and mayhaps even the pressure of performing before such a crowd as this; even after they are called out to the field, there is some slight delay and even a "No, bring my- no, not, yes that one!" exchanged between the knight and his squire as preparations are made off to the side of the list and his helm, shield, and lance are all brought over. So much like his opponent, by the time they are called he mostly just hustles his steed out on the field, just barely avoiding annoying the judges. There is no flair from him either, save the fact he does seem to bear a lady's favor, secured on his arm. When in place, he does salute his opponent and the judging stand, and then waits for their signal to begin.

The sun blesses the grounds with its rays, causing the chain armors to gleam occasionally. Cynrain stands with his squire, watching the joust with moderate interest. As the two prepare to ride, Cynrain tilts his head slightly, taking note of the lady's favor on Cynderyn's aram. He waits for them to begin, waiting to see who will emerge victorious.

On the other side of Cynrain's squire is Catryn, close to Cynrain's side, her own squire in tow. For the moment she says nothing, but she watches those out on the field. After several moments, she turns her attention to him. "I'm not participating in the joust. I never really got good at it. I was surprised in beating the Moon Knight."

Present at the sidelines, Martyn looks around rather carefully, first looking to see who's around to watch, then to the two participants. Studying them both rather carefully as he does.

There is no note of favor upon Rozenn's self, but then… it is perhaps less common among the female knights. Not entirely unheard of, perhaps, but not as common a gesture. The woman is uneasy, by a measure. There's a certain level of prestige to this tournament, compared to many others. When the signal is given, she lets out a breath and leans in upon her mount. Her first joust and really, she only entered the lists at nearly the last moment. As her charger pounds down the line, stirring up what dust has not already been trampled, her lance is already swaying just a bit wide; enough that the clash and wing resistance are sure to pull it from making successful contact with her opponent.

Standing off nearby Lysanor, Seren watches the field. A Burcombe and Dinton, it surely was fitting! Seeing the nervous excitement in her friend, she offers a warm smile. "I suspect he will do well. He is, after all, a Dinton, they excel at everything." Watching the salute, she cannot help but to smile proudly to Lysanor, but displays a bit of nervousness herself, clasping her hands together to keep them from wringing together.

Lysanor checked her proud of 16, she rolled 19.

Seren checked her proud of 7, she rolled 3.

Lysanor checked her modest of 4, she rolled 1.

Cyndeyrn sits ready on his own steed, waiting upon the judge's signal. When given, his knees dig in to spur his charger onward, driving it quickly toward a full gallop as they race down the length of the list, causing that bit of cloth worn on his arm to flutter in the wind. Closer and closer with hooves thundering beneath, the Dinton's form looks firm and solid, much as the knight himself, his lance lowering as they reach their full speed and holding steady before him. The pair draw nearer still, and whether he spots Rozenn faltering or merely focuses on his own technique, the knight's aim proves true: angled just as necessary to avoid her shield, his lance-tip strikes the woman's shoulder, pushing the other rider back over her center of gravity even as it allows the lance-tip to pass over her rather than shattering or doing more serious harm. Of course, Cyndeyrn cannot see the full result until he is at the other end and has time to turn, but he knows, even passing, that the hit is a solid one.

Seren was right and Lysanor knew it. She was Dinton proud and yet, even she still fretted over her brother. What he was got hurt or fell off of his horse! It didn't matter who his opponent was, Burcombe or anyone else. All that it did matter was that Cyndeyrn was out on the field. Just as her friend could sense her own nervousness, Lysanor senses the same from the Woodford scribe and thus, she reaches to take hold of Seren's arm, to give it a squeeze of support and perhaps finding it a comfort to herself as well. "You are right." She says with a heavy sigh, watching her brother atop his horse and feeling that he is so far away. The sight of the favor upon his arm does also warm her heart and yet, for some reason, leaves her feeling all the more wistful. "I am sure that he will do well." And not get injured, she hopes!

Cynrain turns his head towards Catryn and he nods once before saying, "You did well that day. Perhaps you've a natural talent for the Joust, Sir Catryn." As the pair joust, Cynrain watches, holding his breath before the initial strike. Once the hit connects, the impact is felt within him. "Wow.." he says quietly, "That was quite the hit."

"Thank you, it was interesting. I wouldn't say natural talent so much as my loyalty was being questioned." A small smile plays over the Burcombe's lips as she watches the joust. When her cousin takes the hit though, she frowns, looking as if she's about to rush out there to check on her. But she waits, seeing if she can get up on her own steam first.

Perhaps it was her own uncertainty that was her undoing. Rozenn had made mention, at one point, that she did not feel her strength lay in the joust. The Melee? Yes. Even any personal challenges that may come her way. The joust, however, no. But then, the Burcombe knight has never been one for the more performance-worthy aspects of knighthood. She is no courtier and, it would seem: no jouster. Her shield is up, but not enough. The tip of the Dinton's lance skirts past and connects with her shoulder. Try as she might, the woman is unable to remain seated; the force of the lance and the speed of her charger at odds with the attempt. It is a quick round, as so many are, and the woman hits the ground heavily; her mount to be caught at the end of the lane by her squire. She does, at least, manage to stand and sketch a bow to the judges… if somewhat stiffly.

Martyn watches the joust happening rather carefully, raising an eyebrow as the Burcombe goes down. "Interesting…" he mutters to himself.

The comforting gesture is met with a grateful smile and Seren scoots in closer to Lysanor as the pass takes place. Watching as Cyndeyrn positions the lance, as the Burcombe is hit by it fairly hard, she looks at the Lady to her side. "He did not break a lance at least and he made a direct hit." As the woman topples off her mount, she holds her breath until she is standing again and she releases it on a sigh before realization dawns. "He won!" she exclaims delightedly.

Eventually, Cyndeyrn does come 'round at the far end of the jousting list, and can see then that his opponent is unhorsed. No sign of celebration is obvious, although at a distance and helmed it would be hard to spot his reaction in any case. He waits several moments at that end, until he sees that Rozenn is not too greatly injured by the fall, able at least to rise and signal to the judges, and more importantly get clear of the field under her own power. As these are but the preliminaries, there is not much in the way of celebrations afterward, though he does ride slowly back past to acknowledge the judges from his horse. Moreover, he seems to scan throught the crowds as he rides, perhaps to pick out someone amidst their number for a more subtle acknowledgment.

The impact has always been the hardest part for Lysanor to watch during a joust, especially when one of the participants is a family or dear friend. So as the horses gallop quicker, the distance between the two knights lessening with every passing second, Seren might feel the Dinton maiden tense just before the loud clash of lance against shield can be heard. Lysanor can hardly watch, her grip on the Woodford tightening ever more. Breathing in a sharp breath, her eyes lift to better get a view of what just happened. The Burcombe had fallen and Cyndeyrn. Now, the coldness which took over her begins to quickly fade and she can feel an intense warmth wash over her, so relieved for her brother and also, very proud of him! "He did!" Poor Seren, she can feel Lysanor's hands squeeze about her once again, but this time in joy! "Cynderyn did it!" She can hardly contain her elation now, her face glowing brightly with pride.

Yes, the Burcombe knight is able to exit the field of her own accord. She may move stiffly, but there are no signs that the lance managed to get past her armor. It could have been a much worse showing, to be certain. Removing her helm, Rozenn offers a bow to Cyndeyrn as well before moving to meet with her squire, handing off shield and helm to the whelp of a thing. Attendents hit the field to retrieve lances and any broken bits that may have been left behind; readying it for the next match.

Seren is so happy when Rozenn was able to get up on her own, it was scary watching her body tossed off the horse such as it was. When Lysanor squeezes her, she laughs, still delighted with the victory, the gesture does not seem to bother her in the slightest! "Your brother won! He gets to move on." There is a look to the favor and a blush rises in her cheeks. "He has such skill in the joust. And in horseback riding. I have seen him in combat also, he has a good chance to sweep the entire tournament, at least the events he entered!"

In both modesty and practicality, Cyndeyrn might object to the bold claim Seren makes for his chances, given that there are older and more experienced knights also competing in the tourney! But he may not even hear the comment passing the crowds, and if so, has little chance to answer immediately. It will be several minutes as he rides back to his starting side where his squire remains with his other equipment and spare lances, although fortunately none of these were needed, and he is even able to return the one he used. Shortly after, he is aided in dismounting, and at least in removing his helm before he is able to go and try and find his family members in the crowd as the next set of knights are called. It may do well for him to watch a while, since the winner could be a future competitor in short order.

Unlike Seren, perhaps, Lysanor doesn't put on much of a show of concern for the fallen Burcombe. Of course, as a healer, she does make an initial assessment of the lady knight's condition, in the case thet there is need for aid to be rendered. However, the main thought in her mind right now is Cyndeyrn! So once Rozenn rises and looks to be in decent enough shape, Lysanor grabs onto her friend's wrist and begins guiding her out onto the field so that they may meet her brother half-way. "You did it, Cyndeyrn!" Is her joyful exclamation, "As Lady Seren said you would." Here, her eyes flicker to the Woodford, gracing the woman with a playful smile. "First the horse race and now this! You are off to a beautiful start in these competitions." Nevermind that Cyndeyrn didn't exactly take first place in the races, but he came close enough!

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